Over the Waves
by Settiai
Summary: It's a long two weeks from Gwaren to Kirkwall. :: Sequel to "A Shift of Fate."


Carver let out a weak groan, his head shifting slightly in Gideon's lap even though he didn't actually wake up from his fitful sleep. His complexion had a grey tinge to it that Gideon didn't like, not with him already keeping down so little food and water thanks to the seasickness he'd been suffering from since they'd gotten on board the ship.

Frowning, Gideon rested his hand on the side of his brother's face, careful to keep it out of sight from the various prying eyes around them. If anyone had noticed the staff that Bethany kept at her side, they hadn't said a word, but he suspected that it might be pressing their luck if he simply let his hands start glowing without even attempting to disguise the fact.

"How is he?"

The question came within seconds of him letting his healing powers fade away. His mouth twitching ever so slightly, Gideon glanced over at Bethany.

She raised an eyebrow. "Well?" she prompted.

Gideon gave her a half-hearted shrug. "He'll be better once we're off this floating deathtrap."

The look that she shot him was less than amused.

"He'll live," Gideon said. He lowered his voice somewhat. "That's more than I can say for some of the people in here."

Bethany bit her lip. Her head jerked slightly, as if she was fighting the urge to look around her. "Do you think you could—" She trailed off, looking torn. "You know."

He couldn't blame her. He felt pretty damn torn himself.

"I can't risk it," Gideon said reluctantly, and the words sounded hollow even to his own ears. "All it would take was one person, just one. If they decided to go to the templars once we land in Kirkwall, both of us could end up in the Circle."

He thought for a second that she would protest. Instead, she shrank in on herself, suddenly looking exhausted.

Gideon didn't quite meet her gaze. "Besides," he added tiredly, his attention drifting past her to focus on where Aveline was sitting next to Mother, "there are some things that even I can't heal."

He didn't mention Wesley's name. He didn't have to say it. Templar or not, the man hadn't deserved to die that way. No one deserved to die that way.

There were at least three people in the ship with them, right now, that were going to die that way. Until two days ago, there had been four. He suspected he'd never know whether that poor woman had thrown herself overboard or if someone else had helped her along. If he was honest with himself, he really didn't want to know.

Bethany didn't say anything.

In his lap, Carver shifted again with a soft moan. Gideon glanced down, thankful at least to see that Carver's skin had lost its sickening grey shade. He was still much too pale, but after almost two weeks in the belly of the boat with only the occasional walk above deck, all of them were suffering from that problem.

He ran his fingers through Carver's sweaty hair, brushing a stray lock of it out of his face. Asleep, even so fitfully, Carver looked years younger. He looked more like the boy who had hugged Mother goodbye before eagerly leaving to join the king's army than the hardened man who had returned from Ostagar with a festering wound on his arm that Gideon almost hadn't been able to heal.

"Do you think Uncle Gamlen is truly waiting for us in Kirkwall?"

Bethany's question was barely more than a whisper, so quiet that it took Gideon a moment or two to even realize that she was speaking to him. He glanced up at her sharply, his eyes narrowing a bit at the too casual tone in her voice.

"Of course," he said quickly. "Why wouldn't he be?"

Her mouth twisted into something almost like a grimace. "I remember the arguments that Mother and Father used to have, when we were young."

Gideon flinched. It was unintentional, but the reflex was buried deep. He remembered those fights too, hushed whispers that eventually turned into shouts before being tapered back, only for the same thing to happen a few minutes later. That's how the three of them had found out why Father and Mother never spoke of their grandparents, save the occasional story about Mother's childhood. It had been easy enough to draw their own conclusions.

Their grandparents hadn't approved of Father because he was a mage. Would they have approved of Bethany and himself? Would their uncle? He might be Mother's brother, but twenty-five years was a long time. And he had stayed in Kirkwall, with their grandparents. Their grandparents who might have hated them because of who, because of _what_ , they were.

Part of Gideon knew that he needed to say something reassuring, to hide the fact that he was just as worried about what was going to happen to them when they finally landed in Kirkwall. Instead, what came out was: "I expect half of the village remembers those arguments. Which probably explains why we had to leave in the middle of the night during the worst snowstorm anyone had seen in years."

Bethany rolled her eyes, her mouth twitching slightly. The amusement never quite made it to her eyes, though.

"What are you two arguing about?"

Carver's voice was slightly slurred from sleep as he blinked wearily up at the two of them. Gideon quickly pulled his hand away from his brother's hair before Carver woke up enough to notice it.

"Arguing? Us?" Gideon asked, putting a bit more dramatics into his voice than was necessarily needed. "Bethany and I were just talking about Kirkwall. If there was arguing going on, there'd be much less talking and a lot more lightning."

Carver snorted. "From her, maybe," he said, carefully pushing himself up into a sitting position. "You couldn't shoot lightning if your life depended on it."

Gideon didn't flinch, even if it took almost everything that he had. For once, he didn't actually think that Carver was trying to provoke him, and if poking fun at his lack of offensive magic made Carver feel better… well, there was more than one way to heal.

"I don't know about that," Gideon said lightly, and if his humor was just a little bit forced then nobody but him had to know. "I seem to remember an incident involving the Harding sisters, your trousers, and—"

Carver quickly interrupted him. "That was fire, not lightning," he said, scowling. "And I thought you promised never to mention it again."

Gideon grinned. "Did I?" he asked slowly, drawing out his words. "That's odd. I don't seem to recall making any such promise."

"Brother!"

Beside them, Bethany leaned forward with an eager look on her face. "I don't think I've heard this story."

"And you're not going to hear it now," Carver cut in, alternating his glare between the two of them.

Gideon smirked at him. "Really? Because—"

Whatever argument Carver was about to make was cut off as his face suddenly drained of color. Two weeks' worth of practice made their reactions all but instant by that point. Bethany grabbed the small bucket sitting beside her and shoved it at Gideon, who quickly positioned it under Carver just in time.

"I think that's enough sitting up for now," Gideon said, carefully sending out another burst of healing energy.

Carver gave him a weak nod but didn't say anything.

"Don't worry, brother," Bethany said gently. "I heard the captain talking. She says we should be in Kirkwall by morning."

Even though she didn't actually say it out loud, all three of them heard the silent "for better or for worse."


End file.
